


The Braves Blue

by chartreusegale



Series: The Crystal Bravest [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, word vomit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23004784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chartreusegale/pseuds/chartreusegale
Summary: The Warrior of Light's legend and achievements continue to build. With the formation of the Crystal Braves, Ciriana joins up in order to build a new life at Revenant's Toll and keep tabs on her now rather famous younger sister.Unfortunately, she now has to work in a team made up almost entirely of idiots.
Series: The Crystal Bravest [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653298
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My initial intention was to have a full party of 8, a proper group of melee and ranged dps, tanks and healers, but that's a lot of characters. Character creation is fun in notes, but difficult to make it work in practice >.<  
> And so I did what I could to condense them. We'll see if it gets too cluttered.

The moment her foot hits the ground several centimetres lower than she expects it to be, Ciriana determines with utmost certainty and without ambivalence that she hates the snow.

The Coerthan landscape looks mostly flat and white, and yet the true geography hidden behind this ridiculous veil of sadness and cold is anything but.

“No wonder they’re all heretics out here…” she grumbles as she regains her balance, “I’d turn on any god who dumped this shite on me every day too.”

The dark blue overcoat Alphinaud insisted they all wear did little to keep the cold from her body and she wasn’t as blessed as her travelling partners with fluffy tails and high body temperatures.

“This reminds me of home, you know!” the man behind her proclaims joyfully, clearly unaffected by the weather, “We would slide down hills like these on Magitek sleds, and soar through the airs like sky pirates for a few moments!”

“Your jests are in poor taste, idiot!” a muffled bundle of anger beside him growls.

The self proclaimed Garlean reaches down into the snow and extracts a similarly aquamarine uniformed lalafell.

“You got snow into my shirt you oversized bastard!” Pecichu swings his stick with all his might, aiming to at least take the Highlander man’s nose in exchange for his dignity, but fails to even reach halfway.

“Oh, my apologies Master Feelsachu.” He drops him back into the snow, into which their compact comrade sinks into immediately, as if he had been thrown into the sea.

“IT’S FECHECICHuuuu!” comes the irate reprimand, somehow growing more distant by the second.

“Do you think that was one of those bottomless ice holes they warned us about?” Ciriana asks, with mild relief at the prospect that the noisy ankle biter might be finding his way to the bottom of the Witchdrop right now.

“Oh no,” Garlean Spy replies, “He’s just rolling down the hill, we’ll find him in no time.”

“A pity.”

“I’ll have to write to my Praefectus about this.” the tall man declares happily as he wades down the hill after the rolling potato, “I’m sure he’ll have just as many fond memories of snowfall like this.”

“Master Fetch-me-a-shoe!” he calls, “Where did you land?”

He presses on ahead of Ciriana hurrying after their only medic.

“Get back you damned Spy, I don’t need any help up here!” A second irate voice chimes in from the front. Makoto had taken the heavy snowfall as a challenge to his physical prowess and had been rather insistent he take the lead.

The uncharacteristically diminutive Raen Au Ra made up for what he lacked in height and muscle mass with pure rage and excessive competitiveness.

“Oh, my apologies,” is the heartfelt reply, “I seem to have misplaced Master Fresh-blue and I can’t quite find him”

“It’s Fechecichu!” the lalafell emerges triumphantly on a platform of raised earth a handful of yalms ahead, “And all the world will someday know the name of Pecichu Fechecichu, mark my words! I will conquer these snowlands and stand above even the name of the Warrior of Light! And then, with power almighty I will...hehehee...I WILL MWAHHAHAHAHAHA-GONFRGH”

Ciriana quickly brushes the snow off of her hand to mask her recent snowball making and rapid discarding hobby. Then again, she doubts the others would hold it against her for silencing the disproportionately loud Lalafell. She is pretty sure she got Chuchu in the eyes as well as the mouth, she couldn’t really tell, it is cold and her muscles weren’t as in good form as they normally are with the chill. Maybe if she is lucky, he would fall into the Witchdrop this time and die.

The kind of people who are insane enough to join the Crystal Braves are almost definitely too insane to tolerate for more than a few hours at a time.

And here they are together, on their third week of working together to hunt down information leaks that were going on across all of Eorzea. She is just about ready to just stab them all herself and tell Alphinaud a dragon did it.

If Ciriana had realized that joining a Company belonging to no Citystate meant joining a Company that meant regularly travelling across all of them, she probably would have given it a little more thought.

Garlean Spy throws his arms up in despair and starts searching for Chuchu with far too much genuine concern. Makoto puts up another fuss as the tall Highlander threatens his masculinity or something by running through snow with too much ease.

“Dragonhead’s just over this last hill!” Makoto calls back to them, as the stone walls and towers begin to grow visible through the snowfall.

“HOT BATHS!” the excitable lalafell emerges once again from the snow, desperately flailing his little legs as if he were swimming through the snowdrifts. “SCALDING HOT TEA! A THOUSAND SERVANTS TO ATTEND TO MY EVERY NEED”

Even Ciriana didn’t have the heart to kill him when they were so close to shelter. She’d have to do it when he was asleep, perhaps. The prospect of warm tea and a hot bath appealed to her just as strongly.

“Back home,” Garlean Spy regaled them with another obviously fake Garlemald story, “We would have this wonderful concoction of Aldgoat milk and cocoa. Some would even add cream to it.”

“It’s under attack.” Makoto’s dreary announcement is met with more disappointment and irritation than fear or concern.

Dozens of flying overgrown lizards can be seen, swooping and breathing flames upon a group of Ishgardian knights by the walls, or landing and lashing out with teeth and claws.

“What I would give to be in those flames right now…” Chuchu says, all of his previous excitement melts away as quickly as some poor Ishgardian’s helmet who was taking a face full of Meracydian fire.

“What I would give to be throwing you into them right now…” Ciriana mumbles, her sarcasm lost to the snow.

“For the Kami’s sake, would it kill you to announce yourself first, Noise!?” Makoto shouts as a dark form appears in front of their slow moving column.

Noise, the mysterious captain of their motley band appears, standing on top of the snow, as if gravity were optional and they were doing it a favour by not flying.

They were the only one not dressed in the Crystal Braves’ uniform, and according to Yugiri it was because apparently a ninja’s outfit was important for their abilities. Ciriana suspected she just thought they looked ridiculous.

The shadowy figure pulls Chuchu out of the snow once more and tosses him onto shallower snow before he can complain. The ninja doesn’t sink even a single millimetre further into the snow, even with the added weight of the sentient popato. How did that even work? 

The proffered hand is rejected by Makoto, but Garlean Spy accepts it graciously.

Ciriana takes the mystery figure’s arm, trying to determine any information about race, gender or age from the contact, but still finds no clear answers as she is helped over the final snowdrift.

“I take it you want us to help them?” she asks, without even attempting to mask her irritation. 

They are close enough to hear the screams and draconic roars of battle. The Ishgardians look like they are fine. There are a few of them on fire or clawed to pieces, but nothing to be surprised about when a cloud made up of scales, fire and teeth comes swooping down at you.

Noise nods curtly before rapidly moving their fingers in complex symbols and unleashing a burst of fire aspected aether into the snow before them, clearing a short path to the better packed snow they could run on.

“WAAAH” Chuchu cries out as he is nearly singed by the flames.

Noise makes an embarrassed motion followed by what can only be assumed to be an apology.

“We’d better get paid more for this…” Ciriana grumbles as the five Crystal Braves march onwards.

“They can spit  _ lightning _ ?” Garlean Spy wonders aloud incredulously, as he draws his gunblade, and checks its ammunition, “These Eorzean beasts never cease to impress me.”

“Your ridiculous antics got old two weeks ago.” Ciriana chides the man. He acted surprised every time he saw a tree or animal he claimed not to recognize. Their trip through Gridania had been excruciating. 

“Just get in there and deal with their right flank.”

“Bet I’ll bag more than you, Noise,” Makoto stretches his fingers a few times before nocking an arrow.

The silent figure offers the man a wordless shrug.

“YOU’RE IN BETWEEN ME AND A HOT BATH YOU OVERGROWN SLUGS” Chuchu rushes forward ahead of the rest, waving his staff maniacally, and focusing a dangerous amount of earth aspected aether within it.

“Master Flufflechoo, wait up!” Garlean Spy rushes after him, and the rest of the blue coated soldiers hurry after them.

With extreme lack of coordination, the Crystal Braves crash into the flank of the horde of Aevis, each of them a small whirlwind of shorn dragon scales and dragon blood.

Chuchu laughs maniacally, unleashing spell after spell, each one clipping wings of the airborne, or sealing the movements of those already grounded. There are dozens of wounded Ishgardian knights barely holding the line by the gates, but they go largely ignored by the self proclaimed master of maiming and mending. Master of maiming, for certain, mending was apparently an optional class at the Conjurer’s Guild, if one were to judge Chuchu’s priorities in battle.

Garlean Spy is as dedicated as ever at his absurd roleplay, masterfully swinging his gunblade through scales and flesh, each powerful blow cleaving vitals and taking heads. Shells explode out of the blade, knocking dragons from the sky, and committed as he was, he insists on loading his weapon with ammunition precharged by Chuchu by hand. If he were not so capable at it, weaving bullets into his weapon’s chambers as smoothly as he glides across the battlefield, the rest would have taken a lot more issue with his antics.

Makoto’s arrows seem to fly across the battlefield at an almost frantic rate, finding their ways into eyes and fleshy underarms in a desperate bid to keep up with Noise’s fiery path of carnage through the Aevis ranks. Strange Doman spells fly from the mysterious figure’s hands, unleashing spells of every aspect, all complementing the dancing of their rapid daggerplay in a deadly waltz across the field.

Unwilling to contribute after suffering so much in the cold, Ciriana makes a good show of carving her way deep into the field of dragon meat before flicking the mechanism of her shortsword, letting its mechanism convert the blade into a shield.

She finds a cowering Ishgardian knight in the process of becoming a particularly hungry aevis’ next mid-day snack and bashes the dragon’s neck hard enough to stun it.

“A-A dragon woman!” the Elezen exclaims with far more fear than he had beheld the dragon gnawing on his leg.

“That’s exactly right.” Ciriana speaks casually as she digs a short dagger into a nearby dragon who was gaining a few too many ideas about a quick shortcut to dinner.

She wasn’t really the “stand and hold the line” kind of fighter, but some of these dragons were very, very far from intelligent and generally attacked in much the same way.

“I’m here to devour your children and steal your wives.” she says blandly, “Have you seen someone who looks like me around the camp?”

“By the light of Halone, carry my soul to thy hallowed halls with grace, receive our humble existence to your bosom and grant -”

Ciriana digs her foot into the man’s chest, driving the breath out of his throat for a moment.

“I asked you a question, sir.” she asks, as polite as ever.

Her answer comes instead from the walls of Camp Dragonhead.

“When the darkness encroaches upon the realm of peace!” a magically enhanced voice booms across the battlefield

“When the light has shrunk to but a sliver!” a second voice continues.

Ciriana feels her foothold give way a little while she’s distracted.

“Oh, sorry.” she says haphazardly, giving the dragon who had resumed gnawing on her new friend’s leg a quick knock on the head.

“Come to banish all evil and bring salvation to us all…”

“The Warrior of Light descends!”

Small fireworks explode at the top of the gate followed by a massive light as Sarani Haragin drops to the ground and unleashes an explosion of holy magicks, blasting a large swath of dragons into the air and away.

Two aetherial wings extend from her back as she twirls, with her staff held high. Healing energies spread across the field, bringing succor and relief to all the wounded and tired.

“Pft, I could do that in half the time...with twice as many injured...without even using any energy. In my sleep! And tied up!” Chuchu growls angrily as he sees his bitterest rival.

“An angel! Halone’s own messenger has come to save us!” Ciriana’s Ishgardian companion proclaimed.

“Oh, come on, her horns are exactly the same as mine.” she sighs as she watches her sister dive into the remaining dragons, unleashing holy magicks in every direction, a feat Chuchu could only glare jealously at.

“Gather your courage, knights of Ishgard!” the girl cries, “Let us drive them back!”

With a cheer, the knights get their second wind and resume the battle.

Ciriana’s man gives a triumphant yell and runs forward just in time to get knocked back to the ground by a burst of lightning.

The tired Xaela gives the man’s crumpled form a shrug, “Whatever, I tried.”

“With light in hand, does she advance!” the announcing voice from before shouts as a blur made entirely of pink lands on top of a dragon to Ciriana’s left, driving a spear into its skull.

“With every step, the enemies of Eorzea doth retreat!” the second voice continues as the second woman lands, first first, to Ciriana’s right, slamming a dragon into a crater.

“She is the Warrior of Light!”

The two strange women hold their arms out towards her, as if presenting a prize to a lottery winner. 

“By Halone’s left teat you have got to be kidding me…” Ciriana buries her face into her palm.

They are equally dressed in scandalous pink outfits that really have no place in a frozen hellscape such as this. Wielding a spear, the pale skinned woman with two peculiar ear-like protrusions sprouting from a head of pink hair stands easily several heads taller than Ciriana and any Miqo’te. She’s more comparable to a sea wolf than a Miqo’te, despite the ears.

The other one looks significantly stranger. Only a few ilms taller than Ciriana, the woman has all the obvious indicators of a Sunseeker Miqo’te, a lengthy furry pink tail, aggressive markings on her face. But instead there are 4 ears perched on top of her head, the expected feline ears in addition to miscoloured white leporine ears similar to her companion.

“Sarani!” the tall woman on the left begins, “You can’t be heard saying such sacrilegious things in Ishgard, they’re a very religious…”

“...and a not very bright people!” the girl on the right finishes.

“You’re one to talk…” Ciriana mutters as she ignores the two and ventures forward to find her sister in the flood of fleeing aevis.

“So you’ve got your own cheerleaders now?” she asks, jabbing a thumb at the two very confused and very brightly dressed girls hurrying over.

Sarani turns away from the fleeing horde and immediately throws herself at her sister.

“Ciriana!” she cries, “I missed you!” throwing her arms around her.

“HORNS HORNS HORNS” Ciriana protests, navigating her own head away from the ultimate Au Ra mistake.

The girl laughs brilliantly as she pulls herself away for a moment and the two take in each others faces for a moment.

“The Warrior of Light wields a sword as well as a staff!”

“Excellent! Seldom are stories told of archmages, I can feel my poetic muse  _ singing _ with ecstacy at her expanded…”

“Vocabulary!”

Ciriana looks at the two women gushing over her appearance.

“You  _ do _ realize that we are separate people, right?” she asks, with concern, “It’s important to me that you realize that we are separate people.”

“What do you mean stories aren’t told of archmages!” Chuchu marches forward with a harrumph, “What of the tale of the fabled Lalafell conjurer who has twice saved the world this past week!”

“Pecichu Fechecichu!” Sarani exclaims, impeccably nailing the name that mere mortals could not utter, “It has been so long!” 

She falls to her knees and gives the struggling lalafell a quick hug.

“How are our friends at the Conjurer’s guild?” she asks earnestly, “Surely they must be missing you dearly!”

“Well of course!” he says, stamping his little foot and struggling out of her grasp, “After you left, they had...I mean...They begged me and pleaded with me so much because they knew a legend such as myself-”

“The Warrior of Light!” Garlean Spy interrupts Chuchu’s epic tale of himself with almost childish excitement, “Oh, my Praefectus will be overjoyed to hear that I’ve infiltrated my way so deep into the Eorzean powers!”

“Hey, HEY Noise! I got 14 of them, how many did you get? Huh?! I could have gotten more if The Warrrior hadn’t barged in so abruptly...” Makoto stalks his way over, busily badgering Noise with questions.

“Friends, friends!” a loud voice comes from the camp’s gates. A tall white-haired Elezen man is waving towards them amongst the retiring Ishgardian wounded, “Our heroes of the hour! Come in, all of you are most welcome to make our hearth and home your own.”

The band of blue-clad warriors begin to make their way over towards the gate, eager to finally get some warmth into their bones that didn’t come from the veins of a winged lizard trying to eat them.

“Haurchefant!” Sarani exclaims, and rushes away from Ciriana’s side over to the waving Elezen.

She gives him a quick embrace, and seems to talk to him excitedly.

Ciriana subconsciously accelerates her pace, pulling ahead of the rest of the bickering idiots.

“It would be remiss of me not to comment on how inspiring your appearance upon the battlefield was.” The man says with a broad smile, “I can sincerely attest to the fact that your splendour was not lost upon the eyes of the knights of House Fortemps.”

“Y-You saw that?” Sarani’s face reddens and she turns away, “I-It was mostly Tataru’s idea to improve the Warrior of Light’s reputation...Are you sure it doesn’t make me look...ridiculous?”’

Haurchefant puts a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“But of course not, why upon your descent and demonstration of your will to protect Eorzea, I scarce had the wits about me to keep myself from leaping off the walls myself to fight by your side!”

“Hi.”   
  
Ciriana approaches the two and stands close enough to this Haurchefant that he has to withdraw his hand.

“It is a pleasure to meet the Crystal Braves of whom I have heard so much.” The man offers a short bow and salute, “And of course, it is wonderful to make acquaintance with the one the Warrior of Light herself calls sister.”

“Who is this clown?” she asks her sister, jerking her head in his direction.

The man seems slightly taken aback by her clear lack of etiquette. Ishgardian noble, by the likes of it.

“This is Haurchefant Greystone, of House Fortemps,” Sarani introduces him, “He holds command of the majority of the forces stationed here. We met some time after uh, that business in Gridania. He helped us retrieve the Enterprise.”

“My lady.” he bows, “The Warrior of Light certainly is excessive in her humility. With guile, subtlety and selflessness did she not only prove herself a friend to Ishgard, but a staunch ally of justice and truth.”

Ciriana barely lays eyes on the man, and is busy studying her sister’s face as she listens to the man shower her with praise.

“Alright, let’s go in.” she grabs her sister by the hand, and physically drags her away from the man. “You’ll have to show me where to grab something to eat.”

The younger Xaela begins to protest, but succumbs to her sister’s authoritative pull. She waves goodbye to her overly personal friend and then hurries forward to take her sister to the kitchen and baths.


	2. Coiling Ivy 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more shenanigans with the Crystal Braves. They're all still very new at this Grand Company thing and some of them are frankly not very good at being professional.

“The Council would have us both in attendance, ere they share some news of great import.” Alphinaud report seems to come from out of the blue, his appearance at Camp Dragonhead a surprise.

“Am I really necessary?” Sarani asks, “The Braves came back with some leads on the truth of the Ivy, and Y’shtola has some ideas about what the heretics are up to. There is plenty work to be done yet.”

“You think too little of yourself, dear friend.” Alphinaud reassures the Warrior of Light, “Surely you must recognize what value you have brought to the land. One primal slain is a fluke. Five lends credence and weight to the rumours, transforming them into fact. After the destruction of the Ultima weapon, all of Eorzea sees you as the heroine you are.”

“There is no other who has as great a right to speak of the future of the land as you, my friend.” he continues, “After all, such a future exists only because of you and only you.”

“Not only me...” Sarani mutters quietly.

“This is exciting.” Garlean Spy whispers to the others with their ears pressed to the door. “I hope I get to be privy to the secret conversations of the Alliance leaders, my Praefectus will be elated to hear of my infiltration success.”

Alphinaud’s words are meant for Sarani’s ears alone, but the Crystal Braves are most certainly not disciplined enough an army to keep themselves from listening in on the private conversation. 

“Don’t you think they’re all too quick to praise her?” Chuchu says with a quiet harrumph, “This one, and that Elezen, they’re  _ all _ over her petty little accomplishments instead of mine…Ow, watch your horns, you stupid undersized lizard!”

“You would dare call  _ me _ undersized you overgrown popoto?!” Makoto growls at the Lalafell, raising a fist to strike the mage on the head.

Ciriana grabs the man’s wrist before it falls.

“Would you all shut up? I’m trying to listen!”

The Raen struggles against her grip, most likely seeing it as a contest of strength before Ciriana lets him escape. The man seems slightly proud of seemingly defeating a Xaela and complies with her request.

Ciriana had seen very, very few Au ra in Eorzea, a number she could easily count on a single hand. With the Doman refugees that had moved into Revenant’s Toll not long after she did, she had been quite excited to see someone with scales for the first time in over a decade, even if they were Raen.

Makoto was the biggest letdown she had ever experienced in her life.

Unlike the massive Au ra males she remembered on the Steppe or even the ones conscripted with her family in Ilsabard, the Raen clocked in at barely half a head taller than her, and was actually smaller and slighter in stature than Yugiri.

The physical discrepancy wasn’t actually much of a damper to Ciriana’s excitement, it was more of the extreme personality issues that clearly stemmed from it that were a bother. Any slight, real or perceived to the man’s lack of height, high pitched voice or perceived femininity resulted in immediate and petty ripostes, often of a violent nature.

This fact was not lost on the excessively antagonistic Chuchu, whose company Makoto seemed to enjoy despite the regular verbal sparring that occurred between the two. Ciriana’s guess it was because the lalafell made him feel tall.

Sarani’s voice pulls her attention from the idiots around her as they finally settle down in silence.

“Oh...well the Braves just got back I was hoping we’d have at least a moment or two relax together for once.”

“I’m afraid the Alliance was quite urgent in their request to speak with us.” Alphinaud refutes her suggestion with the weight of responsibility, “I would also not have the Braves so fresh on the trail of the Ivy be distracted from their work.”

Ciriana is just about ready to barge in and deck the young noble Elezen in the face.

As much as he seemed to be working for the good of Eorzea, the Warrior of Light and his name as descendant Leveilleur seemed to be the only tools he used. Sarani was a force of good in Eorzea, and Alphinaud saw to it that her efforts were always directed in the direction  _ he _ desired them applied. 

The Crystal Braves were no different. A tool in his grand designs for authority and fame and little else. Ciriana had known the type many times before in the streets Ul’dah. The Monetarists who controlled the city and the countless toadies who strove only to curry favour of them.

“They’re coming, they’re coming!” Garlean Spy whispers quickly, “Quick! Act natural!”

Makoto quickly ducks behind the corner, Chuchu simply steps behind a vase that was significantly larger than him, while Ciriana quickly scales the wall, and pulls herself out the open high window.

“Aaah!” the door opens, bowling over the confused midlander man.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Sarani apologizes, helping him up.

“Surely you must realize eavesdropping to be in poor taste, Garlean Spy.” Alphinaud says, with a mild hint of disappointment in the man under his command, “One might think you were actually a real spy if you keep finding yourself in such inopportune instances.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was just listening in on your Eorzean secrets…” The man freezes for a moment, “By that I mean  _ my  _ Eorzean secrets, since I’m on your side, that is,  _ my _ side.” He sweats for a moment.

Sarani offers a small laugh at his antics and Alphinaud paces past him, “You’d best get your affairs in order, Garlean Spy, we’ll be departing shortly.”

* * *

Ciriana finds her way back to the barracks at Dragonhead, keen on getting some of her preparations done before they had to leave.

Other Crystal Braves are cavorting about the room, harassing Ishgardians or simply attending to their gear. Or in the case of the two viera in the corner, complaining loudly about how their new aquamarine Crystal Brave uniforms were not nearly as pink as they needed to be.

The Xaela pulls her longsword from its sheath and finds a nearby grindstone to sharpen the blade.

Ilberd Feare, captain of the Crystal Braves seems to notice her and begins to approach. She hadn’t spoken with the man much herself, having gone to Alphinaud directly to enlist. The man had been pleasant enough as a command officer, though he moved like a proper warrior. Mayhaps he might actually have some real power beyond his rank.

“You and the Warrior, you both called Ala Mhigo home for a time, did you not?” Ilberd seems wistful at the very mention of his homeland, “My apologies for prying, your history of all the Braves seemed the most important to study, what with your accomplishments.”

“I can’t say I have had that illustrious a career so far,” she replies with a shrug.

“Oh? I would say singlehandedly defeating the Black Wolf is quite the accomplishment.”

Ciriana arches an eyebrow, “And why would you think such a ridiculous thing of a simple mercenary?”

The man chuckles, “I can understand you wanting to keep the fact quiet, and I’ll honour your wish. Raubahn was a friend of mine back home. He spoke of you when he heard of the formation of the Crystal Braves.”

Ciriana sighs and shrugs as she starts sharpening her blades. “It’s no matter. The Black Wolf’s defeat is better off tallied off as the Warrior of Light’s accomplishments. What was that about Ala Mhigo?”

“Raubahn also mentioned you were a refugee from Ala Mhigo much like he and I were, when you met in the Bloodsands. I simply wish to hear of the memories of home you share with the Warrior of Light.”

“Home is a powerful word, Ilberd.” Ciriana replies, without looking up from the grindstone, “Ala Mhigo was a land free of Garleans for a time, and with sufficient strife and chaos that the streets were survivable for the resourceful with no luck. It was no different than Ul’dah. A place with food to steal and coin to loosen from the unwary.”

She looks up at the highlander and offers a wry smile.

“No homeland is any different. Our memories do little justice for those ground underfoot of the happiness we were afforded.”

The blue-clad man sits down beside her.

“I see.” he says, nodding with understanding, “Perhaps my homeland was but a brutal stepping stone for you, much as Ul’dah was for my kin.”

“Painful, isn’t it?” Ciriana asks, pausing to look up at the man, “Knowing that the home you once knew lives on only in your memories?”

The man shakes his head with a sad chuckle. “On the contrary, Haragin, my homeland lives on, though under the shackles and yoke of Garlemald.”

A fire ignites in the man’s eyes, one Ciriana had never seen in them before.

“We shall yet reclaim her. Ala Mhigo shall yet be free once more.”

Ciriana offers the man a smile of camaraderie as best she can.

“It won’t be the same, though.” she says, looking at the blue sky, wondering whether her memories of the endless blue skies of the Steppe were still accurate, “Time passes, and the past within us dies a little more with every waking moment.”

“Sarani is much too young to remember the land from whence we came. Even I wonder whether the land of my dreams and the world of my childhood are even the same. Even if we go back, it will be as strangers. There will be none to welcome us home.”

She examines her longsword, eyeing the edge of the blade looking for impurities or unevenness.

“I had thought to make Gridania our home.” she continues, “A peaceful life, a stable life. I had dreamed of putting down these blades once and for all, maybe even reforging them into a carpenter’s saw.”

Ilberd barks a laugh. “A boon to us all you chose not to.”

“I didn’t have that choice.” Ciriana says sadly, “Hydaelyn made it for me.”

She spins the blade in the air a few times, careful not to hit anything by accident, like the last time Garlean Spy took off the head of Chuchu’s staff, before sheathing it.

“Home is where the heart is, Ilberd.” she says as she stands, “Not where the heart was born. My place is by my sister’s side, wherever fate drags her.”

“You are fortunate to have family left to care for, Haragin.” Ilberd speaks softly, “When love for people is all but spent, love for a memory is all that remains.”

“Crystal Braves!” Alphinaud’s voice draws the attention of the room, “The Warrior of Light and I make for Gridania posthaste, we leave the investigation of the Ivy in your capable hands.”

The two tired warriors look up at the doorway of the barracks where their significantly vertically challenged boss was standing, doing his best to look like he had the slightest idea of what he was doing.

“Lucky bastard gets to get out of this gobshite snow at least…” Ciriana mutters as they depart.

* * *

“You’re going to have to use some Twelvesdamned words, we can’t be here playing charades all day!”

Noise’s shoulders droop dramatically, before the man or woman reaches for the ground and grabs a fistful of brambles from the forest floor.

They then stick them right into Garlean Spy’s clothes by the waist.

“Waah!” the highlander exclaims, taking a step back, “By the Emperor’s nose, I just had that mended a day ago.”

“Oh, I’ve got it!” Sjena exclaims, “It’s the Bramble-”

“Stitches!” U’fake leaps with joy at her lover’s great intelligence.

Noise applies a palm directly to their own face.

"The Bramble Patch, you dolt.” Chuchu corrects the viera, “In the East Shroud, we’d best get moving if we’re going to catch that damned traitor.”

“Where’s the Warrior of Light? Didn’t she and the little lordling say they were coming here?” Makoto asks, glancing around their meeting place around the markets.

“She’s occupied with the Alliance’s scheming right now.” Chuchu replies, “Pah. Politics and prattle. Real legends are forged on the front!”

“Oh my, do you think I should be there?” Garlean Spy asks, “I imagine the Praefectus would be quite happy with any information I might glean from such a meeting.”

“Well, we’d best be getting on our way then.” Sjena says, “After all, we might run into issues if the target finds-”

“Her way into a bramble patch!” U’fake finishes her sentence for her with absurdity. The white haired viera does not contest the validity of her companion’s words and simply smiles at her as if her words were the wisdom of the century.

Ciriana shakes her head, “Capturing a spy doesn’t really require the Warrior’s capabilities. We can wrap this up before she gets out of her meeting. A handful of Garleans shouldn’t cause us any issues.”

“Oh? Afraid to have her see one known as a friend turned traitor?” Ilberd asks.

“And you’re not the slightest hesitant to parade the head of Raubahn’s second in command around town on a spike?” she retorts.

Ilberd’s lips press into a line and then he nods, “Best not to squander precious minutes. We’d best head out for the Shroud.”

The small group nods, and hurry their way over to the boats to the East Shroud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angsty talk with Ilberd there. There'll be much more next chapter, angst is too addicting to write >.<


	3. Coiling Ivy 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A combination of the Eline Roaille quests, followed by the inauguration of the Crystal Bravest.

Makoto struggles under the weight of the bound and gagged Elezen on his shoulders, but nonetheless refuses to accept help from anyone.

Ilberd sighs as they wait for the slim man to take a ginger step off of the boat and onto the eastern docks of Old Gridania.

“I’m FINE!” he yells insistently as he begins to follow the rest of them.

“If we just killed her, we wouldn’t have to go through this mess.” Ciriana says irritably as they wait for the undersized Raen to catch up to them.

“I swear we spent more time lugging her back here than we did tracking her.” Chuchu complains.

“Would you like to carry her then?” The Au Ra challenges, “She squirms.”

“No, but I’m sure one our significantly larger highlanders we have here would love to!”

“I am a proud Au Ra, I am just as strong as any soft and fleshy Hyur!”

“Speaking of Highlanders, where did that Garlean Spy go?” Ilberd asks, “He vanished before we left for the Shroud.”

Ciriana shakes her head, “Probably trying to listen in on the Alliance meeting. That one is strangely committed to his delusions…”

“That pearl he wears on his face looks just like a real Garlean third eye too.” Sjena says, “Do you think it’s possible he might actually be a pure blooded-”

“Idiot?” U’fake finishes, “It has to be genetic, right?”

“It takes one to know one, doesn’t it.” Ciriana replies dryly, “I can’t imagine why someone so skilled at killing Garleans tries so hard to pretend to be one.”

“I’ve seen stranger things in my travels, honestly,” Sjena says with mild resignation before hazarding a guess, “Perhaps in order to properly understand the minds of his enemies, he has to get into their-”

“Garlean Pants.” U’fake nods sagely.

“Where do we drag this traitor anyway?” Ciriana asks, gesturing towards the still struggling Makoto. Chuchu does his best impression of helping by blowing gusts of wind at the very clearly uncomfortable woman in order to lighten the Au Ra’s load.

“We’d best find Raubahn and deliver him to her.” Ilberd says, “Their little meeting should be near complete, he’ll want to look her in the eye and hear her confession himself.”

“Ever since the Flames were born, huh.” Ciriana muses, glancing back at the woman’s deathgaze, “He’s not going to take this well.”

“Raubahn and I…” Ilberd recounts, “We lived hand to mouth. Little more than the shirts on our backs, we had.”

“Trust was the only currency we owned that we had in plenty. Not even the Garleans could take it from us, we swore when we fled our home.”

He shakes his head.

“Of all the trials we faced, betrayal...true and utter betrayal such as this was not of them.” the man snickers mirthlessly, “Things were simpler back then. I had never tasted true betrayal until I lost my home.”

“Yugiri and a handful of braves are the only others who know the Ivy’s identity.” Ciriana says measuredly, “The Flames could use a martyr instead of a traitor.”

Ilberd looks back at their struggling prisoner then shakes his head.

“You can’t shield her from everything, Haragin. You must know you’ve already failed.”

Ciriana says nothing in reply, but she does take her hand off of her knife.

She had never told her sister any of her old arena stories. In fact the girl likely hardly knew her older sister had been condemned to die in the Bloodsands an entire life ago. She had never really intended for the girl to ever find the truth of the matter. Then again, she had also never intended for her to be the sole pillar of salvation in the face of the impending death of the entire continent. 

.”You’re right…” she sighs, “I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore…”

“With every day, the Warrior grows in strength. You worry one day she will no longer need your aid.” He pauses for a moment, “No, you’ve seen her progress, you worry you will one day be a liability for her. There are other paths you can walk, meaningful paths, that are not in the footsteps of one who slays gods as a pastime.”

He takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly.

“I fight for Ala Mhigo.” he says finally, “My home freed, our liberty and way of life restored once more. I always have. I and others joined the Braves in the hopes that we may be the first step to bringing this shite Alliance into marching upon Baelsar’s Wall some day.”

He looks Ciriana dead in the eye, his brown eyes sparkling with a dream of his homeland.

“Our cause could only grow stronger with the might of your blade at our side.”

Ciriana chuckles, thinking of that strong yet feeble lonely girl standing alone in front of the Ultima weapon.

“The Warrior of Light you know is not the invincible monster Eorzea sees her as. She is a kindhearted girl. Idiot, empathetic and true to a fault.” she says with a sigh, “They treat her like a saint, and lead her around with wounds to mend and woes to solve. Someone must be there to keep her from sauntering to her doom, and you can bet the Scions would gladly see her bleed for the sake of the realm.”

“You would have your legacy usurped by the little lord and the Scions?” Ilberd asks increasingly forcefully, “You could be so much more, yours could be the name sung in every tavern, not those of the Scions!”

“Call me when you march upon the Lochs Gyr Abania, but not until then.” she replies, holding up a hand to indicate she would not pursue the matter, “I would be honoured to fight alongside you and Raubahn.”

The man looks away from her at the rejection.

“I couldn’t give a pound of gobshite for songs sung of my name. My place has always been at Sarani’s side, now, more so than ever before. Even if my sword dulls and my shield shatters, I will not ever abandon her simply for desire of a greater purpose. I hope your ambitions bear fruit, friend. Everyone deserves to see home at least once more.”

Ilberd doesn’t answer and the two walk in silence, leading the rest of the team towards the Lotus Stand.

* * *

“What is the meaning of this?” Raubahn demands as his second in command is tossed to the ground before him.

The shock in his face is mirrored by the handful of Scions and Grand Company leaders gathered by the Lotus Stand.

“Don’t you think this is too public…?” Makoto growls, eyeing the many sets of eyes looking upon them.

“We’ve found our traitor.” Ilberd announces, gesturing grandiosely at the prone woman.

“The Ivy!” he says, pacing around her and looking to Raubahn only for but a moment. “Caravan routes, trade secrets, military formations, patrol schedules, Rhalgr knows what else she leaked, nay, sold to the heretics of Ishgard, the confounded Monetarists, even the Garleans.”

Raubahn’s jaw grows slack as he looks to the woman he had trusted over any others in the Flames for the past decade.

“Impossible…” he murmurs, seeming like he wanted nothing more than to wake up from the nightmare before him.

“‘Tis true.” Yugiri’s voice comes from seemingly nowhere as she and Noise join the gathering, “She was caught in contact with a known Garlean spy.”

“Oh, not me, right?” Garlean Spy holds his hands up effusively, “I was here the whole time.”

Sarani shushes the talkative man.

“Do you have any idea what consequences your actions have wrought upon this entire star?” Alphinaud snaps, “Behold, a respected officer of the Flames. People looked up to you as one of the order’s founding members; its pillars. You were a part of a hope for all of Eorzea! It saddens me to see you fallen so low.”

Eline Roaille looks up from the ground at the men and women surrounding her and spits out the gag in her mouth.

“Low?” her face and words ooze venom that were almost unrecognizable from the inspiring and courageous Flame Marshal she had once been, “What would you know of low? You? A spoiled little lordling who has never known want!”

She looks up at the three most powerful people of the realm and zeroes in on Alphinaud, summoning forth rage hidden deep in her heart for the tormentors of her past that looked no different than him.

“People such as you take wealth and birth for granted!” she shrieks, “You think it your gods-given right to rule over others!”

Raubahn can only look away as the woman indulges more and more in her fury.

“You know naught of our plight! The injustice that we lowborn Ishgardians must endure! To the noble lords and ladies, we are not people, but resources to be consumed!”  
“I did what I had to do to survive! Stealing, killing, even whoring myself! It is no fault of mine if fools imagined me a paragon when I joined the Flames!”

“Eline, please…” Sarani says, tears budding in her eyes.

“What would a hero like you know of despair? The pain of watching your friends and family turn on each other to stave off starvation while the lordlings danced and partied the nights away?”

Sarani turns away, unable to face a woman so filled with resentment.

“What right do any of you have to judge me?! With your high chairs and privileges!?”

“To hear you tell it, one would think you the only person to ever have suffered.” Ilberd says as Ciriana steps forward.

She kneels in front of the woman on the ground and looks at Sarani, whose tear-touched gaze meets her own. She offers a smile as comforting as she can.

“We were hostages of an evil empire, then we were Imperial defectors, then we were twice refugees in foreign lands,” she says, “only to finally arrive in a dusty land ruled by steel and deceit and blood.”

Her words are spoken to Eline Roaille, but they are meant for those behind her. To the generals and admirals standing around them, and most importantly to the grandson Leveilleur who always s

“The Warrior of Light’s tale is not one of a noble pedigree, but one of desperate survival.” she says, standing up and addressing the small crowd “Body, blade, morality. No price has gone unpaid to put food in starving bellies. We were betrayed and abused, exploited and threatened and yet here we are.”

“Then how are we any different!?” Roaille retorts, tears of despair beginning to bud at the edges of her eyes, “You would do the same as me if only the opportunity were to come knocking.”

She looks up at the green foliage covering the sky, and remembers the day she dragged Ciriana here, their feet bloody and wallets and stomachs empty, and yet somehow, their hearts filled with hope in the wake of the Calamity.

“Perhaps I would.” she admits, “But we made a choice, an important choice when we came here. Our goal was not riches or vengeance or spite. All we asked for was peace and trust.”

“It is difficult to grow beyond the trauma that has created us, but all that matters is that we try, and that others lend a hand to those in need.” she says, her eyes flicking to Grand Company leaders, “Look upon the Warrior of Light as an example of the best of us. The same pain that stabbed into our hearts and filled them with anger simply opened hers up to allow her endless love to flood the world.”

She looks back down at the defeated woman on the floor.

"I cannot lecture you, regardless of this petty contest of misfortune. Your pain is your own and none can begrudge you it. But know that when a home was finally built that you could rest your weary soul in, you yourself are the one that chose to spit in it, and no others can ever hold the blame."

“Enough.” Ilberd ends the conversation with that, “You will return to Ul’dah, and face those you have wronged, and those whose trust you have dragged through the gutters.”

With a wail of frustration and loss, Eline Roaille is approached by people who once called the woman’s name and title with respect, who forcibly lift her by the shoulders and carry her off.

Ilberd regards Ciriana with a look of respect and a hint of sorrow. He steps past her to greet Raubahn.

“I wish we could be catching up with an ale in hand like we had promised instead of...this.” he says remorsefully.

“A dark day for Eorzea it is indeed...” the Flame General says mournfully, his head in his hands.

Each Grand Company leader and their retinues seem to chat quietly as they shuffle away to head to their own business, all of them likely keen on inspecting their own ranks for opportunistic traitors

Ilberd squeezes his shoulder before turning back to the other aquamarine uniformed men and women.

“Excellent work Braves.” he commends them, “This success would not be possible without each and every one of you...except maybe Garlean Spy over there.”

The man in question was busy scribbling notes in a notepad while muttering about how excited his Praefectus would be.

Alphinaud steps over, his resolve seemingly stronger in the face of what had just transpired.

“Not so much as a hint of remorse....” the young Elezen says with a sigh, “‘Tis well this sordid business is finally at an end.”

The group of Crystal Braves do their best to form up in front of their commander, a process painfully accomplished after much shoving and petty.

“A friend’s betrayal cuts deeper than steel.” he says, his face filled with sorrow, “We must hope we have chosen our allies more wisely than Raubahn chose his.”

“Don’t pat yourself on the back yet.” Ciriana snaps at him, much to Sarani’s horror, “Eline Roaille was but one victim of thousands who have suffered under the yoke of people who look remarkably similar to you and yours.”

“I understand your frustrations, however-”

“I can guarantee you that not one of the Crystal Braves joined for the great honour of working with your lordly name.” she says bitterly, barely holding back her desire to smash his face in, “Those that stand here today fight on your orders because a kindhearted girl cursed by Hydaelyn to throw herself into the jaws of death for the sake of strangers must never stand alone.”

She jabs an accusatory finger in his direction, “Don’t mistake obedience for power or by Thal’s balls Twelvesdamned loyalty.” she snarls, “You have done nothing to deserve it and for all your lofty ideals, you are but a pampered child who knows nothing of the lives in the realm you claim to care so much about. The moment I think you step overbound with your use of my sister to further your goals, is the moment my blade turns upon your neck.”

With her final threat delivered, she stalks off towards the Carline Canopy without a single glance back to her companions in arms.

* * *

“Ciriana? Do you have a moment?”

The Xaela doesn’t move from the inn bed as her the door creaks open and her sister steps gingerly in.

“Not like I’m doing much right now.” she says, removing the wet cloth on her face.

“Are you alright?” Sarani asks, with genuine worry on her face.

“When have you ever known me not to be?” she replies with a smile.

The smile morphs into a frown as she glares at the doorway.

“Does this really qualify as a proper secret worth eavesdropping on, Garlean Spy?” she asks flatly as she pulls a slipper from the floor and tosses it at the doorframe.

“Oh dear! My cover is nearly blown!” she hears the awkward man exclaim before hurrying away.

Sarani suppresses a small giggle that is nearly infectious enough to spread to Ciriana.

The younger girl climbs her way onto the bed alongside her sister and wraps her arms around her elder comfortingly.

“You know our place in the Lily Hills is gone now.” Ciriana says quietly, “Well, I didn’t pay the rent and didn’t show up for 3 months while chasing you around the realm…so it was only to be expected.”

Sarani combs her fingers through her sister’s hair.

“I’m sorry.” she says, remorsefully, “I know how much that little place meant to you.”

“I had all your class notes and reports from A-Towa-Cant there, but I imagine they don’t keep things in storage. Tough times, since the Calamity. Must be plenty of people who step out of their homes and just never come back.”

Sarani giggles, “You were so excited when they let me start lessons there.”

“Regardless of times, a good healer is always in need.” Ciriana sniffs, “Not subject to the same kind of market dropoff as adventuring mercenaries.”

“You know the Adders get paid almost 50% more than the Braves?” she asks incredulously, “If you weren’t pulling straight from the Scion’s coffers, I’d be hard pressed to feed us both.”

“You don’t have to feed me anymore, Ciri. I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

Ciriana lets out a sigh and leans her head back into her sister.

“I had a completely different idea of how this conversation was going to go when I saw it coming five years ago…”

“Oh? What were you expecting?”

“The way I imagined it,” Ciriana says with a smirk on her face, “You’d be declaring that boldly, with your fingers intertwined with some Miqo’te.”

Sarani suppresses a guffaw.

“‘He’s going to be a Nunh someday!’ you would exclaim.” Ciriana does her best impression of her little sister’s voice from a decade ago, “And we would fight and fight and fight over it.”

“Maybe you would see reason,” Ciriana says, emphasizing her sister’s fictional lack of common sense, “Or I would learn to let go.”

“Well, was he handsome at least?” Sarani giggles.

“Of course. Skin as dark as the night and brilliant orange hair you could see from La Noscea.”

Her sister’s innocent laughter makes her yearn for a simpler time long lost.

“And then, when you were heartbroken and lonely, you would come back crying and I would be waiting for you, obviously in front of a gigantic mansion in the most coveted real estate of the Lavender Beds, welcoming you with open arms.”

“I’d have a dozen servants, naturally, and I’d be dressed in the finest of silks.”

“Didn’t you just tell the world we never desired riches?”

“Well it was obviously bought on sale,” Ciriana argues, “Maybe the auctioneer forgot a zero or two in the listing. Come on, this is my fantasy.”

“And the servants?”

“Volunteers, naturally.” she replies with a straight face, “In tribute to my world renown beauty and grace.”

The two sisters laugh and chat away the evening, letting the sun set in the distance. They reminisce of stories of their shared childhood, they share stories of their respective adventures in the Bloodsands, and the streets of Ul’dah, they share their lives as a student of Conjury and an ambitious Wood Wailer.

The freedom and frankness with which they explore each other’s histories is new to them, with no secrets to hide, nor any topic too confidential. Their lives have been two sides of the same tale, yet had previously been nearly unknown to each other. The candles grow dim, their waxy weeping nearly at the end of their eulogy for time.

“Tell me of the Azim Steppes.” Sarani asks, her eyes growing heavy with sleep.

A smile rises unbidden to Ciriana’s face as Sarani asks her all time favourite bedtime story.

She talks a while, of the few memories she has of her homeland. Of the endless rolling hills of green, of the clearest blue sky watching over them. She talks of the few stories she remembers, of The Dawn Father and the Dusk Mother, of the origin of the Xaela, steeped in tradition. 

For Sarani, born into Garlean captivity and whose near life entire was spent running from steel and fire, her sister’s shallow memories were all that connected her to her heritage and culture.

Her memories are thin, and she is hesitant to fill in the gaps with fantasy.

“Alphinaud means well.” Sarani says, the sleepiness clear in her voice as the tales of their homeland end.

“I know.” Ciriana admits, still wide awake.

“There are no qualifications for the work the Scions do,” she says, “after all it’s not like anyone else has experience bringing the continent together to save the world…The fact that they try, that they throw their entire being into the fight is enough for me.”

“I know.” Ciriana says, her frustration showing in her voice, “But I see you standing alongside these lords and ladies, and I see them swinging you about like a club to deal with problems they were too busy to prevent.”

“You obey too readily whenever someone sufficiently well meaning comes along asking for your aid.” she says, “It’s only a matter of time before an idiot with all the good intentions in the world sends you to your doom.”

“I don’t think that of the Scions.” Sarani argues, “They’re a capable and caring folk.”

“When generals make mistakes, it’s the soldiers that pay the price.” Ciriana warns. “Promise me that if you ever cease to trust their judgement, or if ever you think you’re stepping into a battle beyond your means, talk to me first. I promise I won’t try to whisk you away in a burlap sack or anything extreme, just give me some confidence that you will know when to ask for my help.”

Sarani shudders for a moment in her sister’s arms.

“I fear for you though.”

Ciriana blinks with surprise.

“What?”

“Back when it all started...Back when I took my first step as the Warrior of Light, in the Bowl of Embers…” Sarani recounts, with difficulty, “I was with the Flames, we were just going to fight the Amal’jaa, capture a few and find some people they abducted. We were betrayed, and I and the others were brought before Ifrit.”

She breathes in deeply and lets it out, braving the fears of her memories.

“They were all tempered. One by one, their minds were eroded and replaced with this...disgusting fanatical reverence for this terrifying demon. I was next, and how I feared such a fate. I imagined you finding me there, and turning your blade on me and mine on you.”

Ciriana says nothing. She had heard the stories from Riol of the Company of Heroes, she knew exactly how terrifying the primals could be.

“You are more important to me than anyone else in the world.” The girl whispers painfully, “I would not be able to end you if your mind were taken from you.”

“I already promised I would never set foot before a primal. I really mean it.”

“Ok...I trust you. Then I promise if ever I find myself in over my head, I’ll come to you immediately.”

“Can I trust you?” Ciriana asks teasingly.

Sarani hugs her sister even tighter.

“Always and forever.”

* * *

The motley band of Crystal Braves stand before their Commander and Captain in a slightly larger room of the Carline Canopy. Their postures are straight and some of them are doing their best to look like proper soldiers, while the others are busy trying to look taller.

“From the depths of the sea, to the highest of peaks…”

“From the coldest of snows to the hottest of sands…”

“Wherever you are, we are…”

“Watching you!”

Garlean Spy looks surprised by the shorter viera’s words and looks around for a moment.

“You weren’t watching me last night, right?” he asks with what appeared like genuine concern, “When I met my Praefectus?”

“Don’t you think that sounds a little disturbing?” Makoto asks, skeptically eyeing the flamboyant viera.

“Quite the lively bunch, aren’t they?” Alphinaud says to the Braves Captain.

Ilberd allows himself a small chuckle, “They are certainly a diverse crews of distinctive personality...quirks.”

“Nonetheless, they are easily the most capable we have.”

Alphinaud steps forward.

“Captain Ilberd’s sentiment is mirrored in my heart.” he says with an almost triumphant air about him, “If the effectiveness or capabilities of the Crystal Braves were in doubt before, any such beliefs are no doubt now dispelled.”  
“The past few weeks have shown you seven to truly be the epitome of what the Crystal Braves were meant to be.”

Ciriana arches an eyebrow before glancing back at the parade of clowns she had been trapped with all this time.

“Really?” she asks drily, “I’m starting to have doubts about your vision for the Braves.”

“After much discussion with Captain Feare here,” Ilberd nods in agreement with Alphinaud’s words, “it is with great honour that I cement your team within the Braves apart from the main squads.”

Alphinaud produces a small chest and opens it, to reveal new rank insignias.

“You are the Crystal Bravest, and will report to no other than Captain Feare or myself directly.”

Ciriana starts unbuckling her blue overcoat, ready to turn it in.

“You will be supporting the Warrior of Light in the majority of her ventures, save for the primal slaying of course.” Alphinaud continues, “There are none I trust more with the protection of the greatest sword and shield of Eorzea.”

Ciriana’s fingers hesitate for a moment, and then she refastens the buckles of the jacket.

The two viera hurry forward to express their excessive admiration of the little metal pieces.

“I know I have come to rely on the Warrior of Light for far more than I should,” Alphinaud admits, looking at Ciriana directly, “While there is no replacement for her powers, I recognize the need for the Scions to lean more heavily on the capable and pure hearted men and women of the Crystal Braves as well.”

“She cannot brave all the dangers of the world on her lonesome.” he continues, ”I trust the seven of you will support her efforts to the fullest, that she may find herself in ample spirits to confront the greatest dangers threatening this world.”

Ciriana bites her lip to keep herself from telling off the little lordling once more. This was an improvement, after all.

“Crystal Bravest,” Alphinaud addresses them all, “I am honoured to have your blades at our side.”

“When the light grows dim!” Sjena exclaims, holding her arms out extravagantly.

“The Warrior of Light stands tall!” U’fake adds enthusiastically

“And behind her…ever watchful, ever on guard...”

“The bravest of braves! The Crystalest of Crystals!”

“The Crystal Bravest!”

Sjena looks back at the rest of their crew and frowns, “You were supposed to join for the last verse.”

Ciriana sighs and covers her face with her palm for a moment, much to Ilberd’s mild amusement.

This long journey of theirs was definitely about to feel a whole lot longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fair bit more difficult to write, but now that I think people are more or less all on the same page with each other, we can get to some of the more fun bits with the Crystal Bravest \o/


	4. The Hotspring Episode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladies of the Crystal Bravest spending some time together. Mostly to be angsty unfortunately, maybe I don't know how to write comedies...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a hotspring under Camp Dragonhead. No way would fancy Ishgardian nobles ever set foot there if there weren’t. You can’t change my mind.

"If Haurchefant had told us about these springs last time we were here I would have been a lot less-"

"Cold!"

The two viera behold the simple but definitely warm steam room in the depths of Camp Dragonhead. The natural springwaters hadn’t quite been developed with any amenities and were largely left in their natural form, but the bone-warming heat was a welcome sensation this far up north. It was a well earned rest after the soul-chilling trials of the Akh Afah Ampitheatre.

Ciriana gingerly touches the surface of the water with a toe before beating a hasty retreat.

"Nophica's ass, it's hot..."

Sarani giggles at her sister's antics as she slides into the steaming water as casually as an eft looking for food.

"Why would anyone want a bath this hot..."

The elder Xaela continues to poke at the water until she gets her whole foot in.

"It's nice! Warms you right up to your very core."

Sjena slips in with just as much bravery as Sarani and even goes so far as to submerge her entire head for a moment.

"Come on in U'fake," she says invitingly to her partner and crooks a finger beckoningly at the excitable woman.

"Coming, my lovely!" the girl shouts, as she sprints a few steps before leaping high into the air and spreading her limbs wide as she falls. "Wheee!"

The tidal wave of steaming water is unavoidable and all Ciriana can do is let out a momentary scream before getting doused in hot water.

A hand grabs at her leg as she flinches and before she knows it, she's dragged into and submerged in the pool by her sister.

Her entire body screams in protest at the violent assault on her skin and she immediately pushes for the surface.

"HOT!" she exclaims plaintively as she emerges, much to the amusement of the other Xaela.

A few moments are spent struggling against her sister and Sjena's insistence that she stay in, and before long, she actually grows accustomed to the excessive temperature.

"Are my scales peeling? I feel like they're peeling."

"You're fine, Ciri." Sarani says, leaning against the wall of the pool, "Just make sure you hop out before you start to feel lightheaded."

“Like, you’re sure nothing’s coming off?” she insists, feeling at her own body with concern, “This can’t be good, what happens to scales when you boil them like this?”

“It’s _fine_ , Ciri.” Sarani giggles, “Just breathe.”

Ciriana breathes in deeply of the steamy air and lets it out slowly. Mixed in with the cold Coerthan air makes for a surprisingly refreshing experience.

Sjena glides through the water over to the side of the two Au Ra. 

"The Bravest have been so busy as of late, it's been quite some time since we've had a chance to-"

"Swim!" U'fake finishes, as she casually paddles her way by on her back.

Sarani seems to notice something before reaching into the water and snatching a strange object out of the water.

"U'fake, your uh, ears fell off." she says strangely, examining the strange hairband.

The pink haired woman makes a surprised sound and seems to fall under the water she was swimming in.

Her face emerges right in front of Sarani's a moment later, surprising the Xaela with her lack of sense of personal space.

"Waaah!" she exclaims exaggeratedly, "They're all wet!"

Sjena takes the hairband from Sarani and sticks it onto the girl's head and fastening it into her hair. The normally upright ears have spent a little too long in the water and flop down onto U'fake's face.

"Oh no, I'm going to have to grow another pair!" she says with dismay.

"You mean you've never washed them before...?" Ciriana asks with a hint of bewilderment and disgust.

"Viera ears are to be treated with care!" U'fake replies with a harumph, "They are to be gently caressed with a pinch of baking soda and a wet cloth."

"Isn't that how you get blood stains out of cotton?"

"Some viera ears are very similar to fabric in consistency and care!"

Sjera pulls U'fake over to her and holds her arms around the girl.

"This is true," she agrees, "This is a very common trait in the viera with detachable ears like U'fake."

The detachable viera nods emphatically.

Sarani frowns and looks at the pair quizzically.

"I've always meant to ask this but..."

Ciriana nudges her younger sister in the side, but the girl continues nonetheless.

"You're obviously Miqo'te, U'fake, why do you keep insisting you're a viera?"

"What do you mean?"

"Wuzzat mean?"

The long eared pair tilt their heads in unison as if Sarani had asked why the sky was green or why gravity pointed sideways every other day.

Sarani is a little confused by their reaction.

"Well- I mean," she stammers, "I can't say I know any Viera other than Sjena, but you're obviously a Seeker of the Sun."

Ciriana sighs, "You should just drop it...What does it matter what she looks like anyway?"

"Seeker of Sun?" U'fake asks, tilting her head.

"They're a type of Miqo'te," Sjena answers, as if Sarani were talking about a new species of moon dwelling salamanders.

"Well, I'm definitely not one of those," she says indignantly, "I hail from the forests of Durmasda"

"Dalmasca"

"I hail from the forests of Dalmasca," she corrects herself, "I and many of my sisters and brothers"

"Just sisters."

"We ventured out in search of freedom and adventure, few of us made it this far after the war with the Barleyns."

"Garleans."

"But here I am nonetheless! A champion of Justice and Juiciness! Here to smack all the baddies all the way to the moon!" she expresses herself as vigorously with her arms as she does with her words.

"Aren't you from the U clan though?" Sarani asks.

"Never heard of it! Sounds like a terrible place!" the girl's face scrunches up with disgust and she bares her teeth for a moment, in a decidedly Miqo’te fashion.

Sjena pulls the homemade Viera closer to her and holds her tightly. The girl seems to melt like butter in her embrace.

"Viera are a long lived people, Sarani Haragin." Sjera says.

"I'm two thousand and fifty three years old!"

Sjera hushes the woman in her arms, "You mean two hundred."

She turns back to the Warrior of Light.

"While most simply spend decades just living in harmony with the forests, those of us who have ventured beyond the confines of our ancestral lands, especially to have travelled as far as here, we have seen much in our time."

"The two of you have seen pain and hardship I cannot fathom, and so have many others in the wake of the Calamity and the times of strife before and after it."

"Each and every person in the world is alone in their suffering, and there are as many ways to survive the pain as there are people that fill this world."

She nuzzles U'fake's head, who leans back into her.

"There are as many ways to express love as there are stars themselves. However none can deny the power it has in healing the soul."

“Having lived and adventured as long as I have, there is no cause to fight other than out of love. Love for one’s self, love for another, that is what is required to attain happiness. That is the only way to come into strength.”

The woman raises a hand and touches Sarani's cheek, tracing her scales.

"You must already know of this. Or perhaps you have never known of without it."

Sarani nods slowly, "I-I see..." she says slowly.

“I live and travel simply to bear witness and to experience all the love the world has to offer. The brightest of loves, the most powerful of emotions. By feeling love, by feeling loss, this is how I grow. A forest rife with tradition is nothing but stifling to those cursed with longevity.”

"The Braves are full of idiots." Ciriana says with a yawn, "But they're good people for the most part..." A rare compliment from a woman normally so serious. Perhaps having comrades for once in her life is doing her some good.

The Warrior of Light nods, feeling a little more mature. Though there had been absolutely no answer as to why U’fake kept up the pretense of being a viera, there is no malice in their behaviour, nor any harm, intentional or not. The two seem to love each other in a strange way, and heal and grow each other through their relationship.

Sarani has no reason, much less any right to criticize how they live their lives together.

Sarani looks back at her slowly dozing sister and wonders what life would have been like without her. What kind of person she would have become without the shield of her own champion.

Would she still be qualified to be the Warrior of Light if her life had been as hard as Roaille's or if she had been the elder and Ciriana the younger?

Garlean Spy often speaks of a family "off in Garlemald". Perhaps for him, his ridiculous role-play and incessant letters and reports he writes are his way of coping with his grief.

Sarani always responds to the pain of others with kindness, to heartbreak with strength, to loss with a greater resolve to save. But she cannot expect others to be capable of the same. Even her own sister single mindedly strives to protect her, and would sooner see all of Eorzea burned than a single hair on her precious sister’s head harmed.

Every man and woman's pain is their own. And the way to live with that pain, their own right. Through her adventures, Sarani had finally learned how lonely it is to be hurt.

The Bowl of Embers still bears heavily on her nightmares. The feeble weight of Noraxia of the Little Solace has never once left her hands since she delivered her to her home.

She would remember them all.

"Are you next?" Ciriana had asked her on that fateful day a mere war and countless battles ago.

Sarani had stopped fearing death a long, long time ago.

But what if it were not her, but Ciriana who was next? What if Alphinaud's decisions cost the lives of the Braves themselves?

Would he mourn like she would?

For those we have failed. And for those for whom we must never fail.

The mantra she has oft repeated in her head as she fought tirelessly for the realm. Would the power that oath gave her be enough for her to step over her own sister's body?

Would Ciriana's death be the end of the Warrior of Light?

The mask of the Ascians hovering in front of Thancred's face came to mind unbidden, Lahabrea's laughter echoed in her ears.

And what if she were recognized as the invincible Warrior of Light's one weakness?

"Braves...bunch of idiots..." Ciriana mumbles, half asleep, "But they're still...home."

Sarani blinks a few times and then notices something off about the invincible Dragon of the Bloodsands.

"Ciri! Your face!"

"Ha! She's all red!" U'fake points and laughs.

"It seems our fearless gladiator's greatest weakness is comfort." Even Sjena can't help but laugh at the Xaela's plight.

Sarani quickly enlists the help of her friends to hoist her sister out of the bath and take her somewhere cooler to recover.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Developing characters \o/  
> In a fairly hamfisted way :(  
> I feel like Ciriana's personality is rather poorly executed so far, probably due to the nature of being the main character, and I'm trying to do the others a little more justice. It's easier when they start off as straightforward one trick ponies at first before delving deeper. The others will all be explored soon enough I hope!


	5. Allagan Woes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Crystal Bravest might be somewhat capable, but they're still idiots. Meanwhile our Warrior of Light begins a friendship that will hopefully last.

“‘Just another dragon’, you said.” Ciriana mutters as she watches yet another arrow bounce off harmlessly off of the hide of diamond-hard scales of the massive dragon swooping down at her and Garlean Spy.

“Here it is!” the man cries, holding up his gunblade defensively as the collared dragon spreads its wings and lets out a cry before diving down at the two of them. For any other group of adventurers, such a violent attack would spell a surefire Death Sentence, but for these seasoned warriors, it is merely one of many steps in a series of deadly dances they’ve been through today.

Ciriana crouches beside her comrade, bracing his blade with her shield. The dragon’s neck slams down upon them, its snapping teeth passing harmlessly overhead.

“‘It’s got a collar on, it’s probably tame’, you said…” she mutters again as she counters the dragon’s attack by slicing at its throat.

Her blade barely pierces its flesh and simply leaves an extended scratch that barely draws a drop of blood.

Sjena lands on the back of the dragon, stabbing her spearhead into the ancient dragon’s flesh, her attack seeming somewhat more effective than Ciriana’s.

U’fake follows her enthusiastically, slamming a fist into the haft of the spear, digging its blade clower towards the flying lizard’s heart.

The dragon seems unbothered by the attacks, and bats its mighty wings, scattering the motley crew of adventurers every which way as it regains its airborne superiority.

“I know what I said!” Chuchu shouts as he fees from a near unending barrage of fireballs unceremoniously vomited in his direction.

Noise launches a handful of spells of varying elemental aspects, each of them connecting with ease, yet do little more than irritate the beast.

“Do you think you might ask her to stop trying to kill us?” Garlean Spy asks, “You know, what with being kinsman and all.”

“We are _not_ having this ridiculous conversation right now!” Ciriana retorts as she hoofs it away from another half dozen fireballs launched at her in sequence.

“Sjena! Toss me!” she shouts as she runs at the lance wielding viera.

The spearmaster swings her lance to the side and lets Ciriana jump onto the edge.

With a mighty cry, U’fake strikes the other end of the spear with an equally mighty blow, using Sjena’s strength as a fulcrum and launching the Xaela through the air at the massive dragon.

Surprised by its sudden loss of air superiority, the dragon doesn’t manage to ward away the swordswoman, who successfully lands on the aerial lizard’s back.

With a short burst of speed, she slices at both wings as she runs forward, knocking the beast’s balance off before swinging her blade with both hands at the collar around its neck.

Rather than shattering or exploding, or whatever she expected, the section she strikes simply breaks off, leaving the rest of its components spinning in its strange aetherial machinery around the monster’s neck unaffected.

The dragon screams in what is probably more irritation than any actual pain before shaking its unwanted rider off.

The rest of the team presses the attack, firing ceruleum bullets, magical spells and arrows aplenty as the dragon begins to increase its distance and eventually fly off into the forest of corrupted crystals surrounding them.

Chuchu punches a tiny triumphant fist at the fleeing monster, “Oh yeah, you run, you sack of rotten scales!”

Makoto snorts in derision, “Hmph, not so tough after all,.” he glances over at Chuchu, with a smirk “Don’t need the Warrior of Light after all, eh?”

The two laugh victoriously together and shower each other in compliments over their respective accomplishments, real or imagined. Ciriana wonders when the two idiots got so chummy.

“That beast was much tougher than any scalekin I’ve ever had the displeasure of making acquaintance.” Garlean Spy says, “I wonder if all the Dravanians fight with such viciousness.”

Sjena shakes her head, “This is no Dravanian dragon, her tale is much older than that. Besides, if the Ishgardians stood against might like this throughout the Dragonsong War, Ishgard’s walls would have long since-”

“Frozen over!” U’fake makes a displeased face at the mere thought of snow.

Ciriana picks up a piece of the broken collar, the machinery itself still mostly intact, “A collared dragon, huh…” she mutters when suddenly a large explosion comes from the edge of Bahamut’s hand.

“What in the name of Menphina’s kidney stones did you do that for Noise!?” Chuchu yells irately.

“You’re going to freak someone out!” Makoto joins in, “You can’t go launching spells at-”

“Run!” Sjena shouts as her sharper eyes spot what Noise was bringing their attention to.

Flying at full speed and starting a corkscrew like dive, the dragon descends upon them with barely enough time to react.

The Crystal Bravest scatter like flies as the guardian of Dalamud dives past them all, barely missing its prey with its flurry of talons and blades. The aftershock of its speed threatens to nearly flatten them all against the ground.

“Ooooho, she’s mad!” U’fake exclaims strangely enthusiastically.

“Where’s that damn Warrior of Light when we need her?!” Makoto shouts in frustration as he continues firing useless arrows in the hopes one of them might get the beast in the eye.

Chuchu begins a tirade about how his prowess is significantly superior to any casual conjurer such as the Warrior of Light while the others pick themselves up and prepare for the beast’s next onslaught.

The mention of Sarani’s title did make Ciriana wonder about the girl’s whereabouts. The Scions had a number of errands to run in this time of relative calm. While the Bravest signed up for this wonderful display of shite on a stick, the Warrior of Light had been gallivanting about at the request of her friends at the Ironworks. The loss of her Blessing hadn’t phased her in the slightest, and she was still there when she was needed.

Part of her did recognize that their survival would be a lot more certain with her presence, but the other part was much happier leaving her with tedious errands rather than facing down dragons.

As long as she was helping people, the girl would be happy. And if all those people needed was a few fetch quests and a smile, then all much the better.

* * *

“Excellent work!” the massive scholarly Roegadyn exclaims as he beholds the four elementally aspected flawless crystals, polished to a pristine shine.

“We now possess all four of the fangs required to pierce the Crystal Tower’s defenses!”

Her face mired with dirt, and a frown on her face telling tales of displeasure, Sarani glowers sullenly at the four perfected keys.

“Petty, thy kind are.” a deep baritone voice speaks directly into her head.

“Oh, shut up.” Ciriana growls at the miniature dragon stalker she picked up in exchange for something significantly more valuable.

Everyone at the table turns to her for a moment.

“Oh...that wasn’t meant for you...nevermind.” she mumbles, cursing the ancient dragon mentally.

“The wonders of Ancient Allag yet await behind yonder gate, and the keys to untold knowledge and technology lie in our hands! Dare I sense hesitation in your eyes, adventurer?”

The familiarly irritating voice calls down to them from above, bringing a moment of happiness in Sarani’s rather awful day. The opportunity to deck whoever owns that insufferable voice and attitude in the face is enough to turn any disappointing day into a true victory.

“So, you return at last!” Rammbroes looks up the scaffolds, ”What, pray tell, has kept you so wholly preoccupied that you could not spare a moment to inform me of your progress or preservation?”

Sarani squints, but barely makes out the silhouette of the grandiose figure standing with his back to the sun.

“Why, the task you assigned to me, of course!” the man exclaims, “Surely you have not forgotten about the aethersand? I tasked a passing adventurer with delivering it. A more capable courier I could not imagine.”

“Passing adventurer!?” Ciriana repeats, not even attempting to hide the offense in her voice.

With a great leap, the man soars a yalm through the air before landing on one knee before them.

“Greetings, passing adventurer!” he says coyly, emphasizing the title that clearly irritates her, “Did I not tell you we would meet again?”

He stands up, showing himself to be a young Miqo’te with rust coloured hair, and a muscular physique telling of ample training in arts martial, and not only in the art of running his mouth.

With a flick of his neck, he moves his hair out of his heterochromic eye and introduces himself as showily as his entrance has been.

“From the Isle of Val I hail, of the Students of Baldesion am I the scholar. I am G'raha Tia.” Sarani notes the tattoos on his neck and shoulder, as he bows deeply “I look forward to joining you on your groundbreaking expedition!”

“Do you really intend to have this immature _lout_ accompany us in unchartered Allagan ruins?” Sarani demands of Rammbroes immediately.

“I hadn’t anticipated this...conflict of personality…” The scholarly giant sighs and strokes his beard, “But there is no other more comprehensive expert on Allagan history and culture as G’raha.”

The man’s bow somehow increases in depth and extravagance as compliments are laid upon him.

Sarani frowns at the clown but issues no further protests.

“So then, our fellowship is complete,” he says, pacing before them, “And all stand ready to step into the unknown! Three cheers for NOAH!”

“And what, by the Twelve, is ‘noah’?” Sarani asks, without even attempting to hide her displeasure.

“That is the name I have chosen for our little collective.” he says, smirking directly at her, “We must have a memorable appellation if our venture is to leave its mark in the annals of history. I could claim that NOAH stands for “Nominated Observers of Artifacts Historical,” and so it does, technically─but my true reason for choosing this name stems from the fact that it is shared by a vaunted Allagan archmagus.”

Sarani rolls her eyes and stalks off back towards the tents, “Call me when we’re setting out.”

She doesn’t bother turning to see the expressions on her friends’ faces.

“Thine mood seemeth unbefitting for one known as the vaunted Warrior of Light.”

“You are _part_ of the problem, you overgrown salamander.” she snaps at the millenia-spanning ancient.

She pulls open the entrance to her tent with irritation and throws herself into her cot before burying her face into her pillow.

“I did not think Hydaelyn’s Chosen so weak-willed as to find herself discouraged by naught but the name of a group.” her scalekin stalker notes, materializing in the air above her.

“It’s not that!” Sarani kicks her feet like a child for a moment.

“Things just feel so...unending…” she admits. “It was all supposed to end with the primals, with the Garleans defeated, the heretics, all of it…”

“The moment I answered Hydaelyn’s call, I threw myself into this war, I _know_ it will not end soon, but somewhere, some part of me wishes to see that peace I’ve been fighting for so long.”

“Every day, every adventure, I see the same. Be it Garleans, Ishgard, even the Eorzean Alliance itself, I see the selfishness, inaction and lack of empathy that has hurt this world so much and I feel…I feel like it will never end.”

“What if I’m the one who’s wrong, and van Baelsar was the one who was right?” she asks the diminutive dragon, “What if the freedom and kindness I believe in and have fought for is an anomaly, rather than the true nature of people?”

“What is wrong with me…” she buries her face in her pillow. “Was blind confidence a part of the Blessing you took from me?”

“Naught has been taken from thy possession, o mortal child.” The dragon corrects her, “The Blessing supplied thee with naught but power uncontestable. The hand thy might wrap around this power to wield wilt find itself impeded by my Thorn. I would not bring harm to Hydaelyn’s Chosen. Any confidence waning within thine heart is thine own.”

Sarani laughs mirthlessly.

“So? What do you think of the famed eikon slayer, the one Hydaelyn chose over all others to stave off the darkness?” she challenges, “Surely a child so pathetic could not possibly be found worthy?”

The dragon looks at her momentarily, then quickly dematerializes into thin air.

“Watch...Listen...and Wait.” he says, as cryptically as ever, as he vanishes.

“My dear passing adventurer!” G’raha Tia bursts into the her tent unannounced in his usual bombastic manner, “We are on the eve of a great expedition into lands heretofore unknown, how might I evoke your greatest enthusiasm from your adventurer’s spirit!”

“You can’t just barge into a lady’s quarters like that!” she hears Cid’s shouting in the distance, that clearly went ignored.

G’raha pulls over a chair and flips it backwards before sitting on it.

“My dear lady Haragin,” he says in a calmer voice, “You have my sincerest apologies if I’ve offended you in any way.”

“Go away.” she says, turning away from him, “I’m not going on the expedition. I’ve got...Scion business to attend to.”

“Strange, I was given quite explicit information from Thancred Waters himself that his pet Eikon Slayer was free of responsibilities for the meanwhile, and was available to defend Eorzea wherever else her strength might be needed.”

“I’m nobody’s _pet_.” she hisses back at the insufferable man.

He holds his hands up in surrender, “An oratory embellishment, and nothing more,” he excuses himself, “I meant nothing by the word.”

Sarani grunts but says nothing further in acknowledgement of his apology.

“I apologize if we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, so to speak,” he says, his words truly communicating contriteness, “So allow my humble self to offer my sincerest regrets for how we have found each other’s acquaintances.”

“I am G’raha Tia, Student of Baldesion, and expert unparalleled in any matters Allagan.” he introduces himself once more, simply, with little embellishment in wordsmithing or presentation.

“This expedition is one near and dear to my own heart.” he explains, “There is no other monument in all the land as telling of the glory of the heights of the Allagan Empire as this tower.”

“Ever since the hapless child I was first read of this gargantuan structure, I was filled with an unending curiosity, as if I were being drawn to this magnificent beacon of splendor itself!”

“There is nothing I desire more, than to see the heights to which the Spoken might ascend.” he says, his voice getting more and more enthusiastic, “The heights to which the Allagan Empire surmounted, the dreams, hopes and ideals that led them to that place, oh how magnificent they must have been. And look upon the realm of Eorzea itself, the fine men and women who have gathered together here today in the ambitious endeavours of exploration and peace!”

He stands from his chair and steps closer.

“Does your heart not _sing_ in the anticipation of the things we might discover, the secrets of the Allagans we have yet to uncover!?”

“Not now, no.” she replies drily.

A powerful hand seizes her arm, taking her by surprise as the man almost yanks her right out of her cot.

“If your imagination won’t inspire your will, then allow me to show you!”

He drags her to her unsteady feet, and charges right out the entrance of the tent.

“Wh-What are you-”

“Right up here, surely you must have seen the Tower, in the distance, but not like this!” he pulls her along, keeping her just off balance enough that she could not just stop and refuse to move.

“Mind your step!” he says as they near a short jump up to a large sloping boulder.

In his excitement, he doesn’t wait a moment for her to jump up herself, and instead, pulls her forward before sweeping her legs up with his arm.

“How dare you-” she stammers as she finds herself being lifted like a sack of popotoes.

Despite her weight in his arms, as slight as she may be, he seems to agilely leap atop the ledge without much effort.

“Just up here! We’ll catch the setting sun!” he cries, completely ignoring the young Xaela’s attempts at protest.

She has half a mind to blast him off the ledge into the Silvertear Lake, but a sudden spark of light in the distance catches her eye.

Sarani had seen plenty of the Crystal Tower before, off in the distance. She had never paid it much mind, it was little different from a distant the Singing Shards, in her opinion. She had been rather preoccupied with a Garlean war at the time, to be fair.

Now, in the distance, it was unmistakable. A shining crystal, filled with the orange and purple hues of the setting sun, juts proudly into the heart of the sky, unrepentant in its heresy against the heavens. A myriad of colours refract through the crystal spear, painting rainbows across Sarani’s vision and the entire Silvertear coast.

“According to the findings of my Baldesion colleagues, the Crystal Tower was constructed to collect and store the endless energies of the sun.” G’raha explains in a soft voice, as if afraid any further noise might disturb the purity of the living masterpiece before them.

“I always thought of it as a prayer of hope.” he continues, “The hopes of the Allagan people, a dream of someday attaining the heavens themselves.”

The two say nothing for a few moments, just taking in the view. How long has it been since she has just done something so simple as that? Maybe she should bring Ciriana here someday, they could just look upon a peaceful and tranquil view while sitting on...

“Oh…” is all Sarani manages as she realizes she’s still in the Miqo’te man’s arms.

“M-my apologies!” he says suddenly, quickly setting her down.

She turns aside, quickly smoothing her skirts and looking anywhere but at the man who had probably held her in his arms for a solid 5 minutes.

“I-I meant no offense,” he insists, “Master Garlond simply mentioned your recent lack of...enthusiasm and I only wanted to…”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out loudly.

“My apologies for my forcefulness...I may have found myself to be in a somewhat overexcited mood, ever since this expedition had made some significant progress…”

“You’re forgiven.” Sarani says, turning back to look upon the distant Tower, “For the aethersand business at least.”

G’raha Tia takes a few steps forward, looking in the same direction as her.

“Long have I heard tell of your accomplishments.” He says, with nary a hint of his usual bombastic manner, “Of your immovable will, and unparalleled abilities.”

“I had thought my colleagues exaggerating, one should think they were speaking of heroes of eld, certainly not a simple foreign Conjury student.” he shakes his head with a smile.

“But of course she should be described as such. She is the heroine the history books shall sing of in centuries future. She is the heroine of today.”

“You have surrounded yourself with extraordinary people, my lady Haragin.” he says turning back to her, his expression obscured by the bright light of the tower and sun behind him, “To witness a woman as remarkable as you, to stand side by side such a meaningful and powerful force of history in person is beyond my wildest dreams!”

“To uncover the secrets of this world, and to witness souls and stories so bright, they rival the brilliance tower behind me, there is nothing more I might wish for. Please, my lady Haragin,” he asks, “Do not abandon this endeavour. For the sake of the unknown, and for the sake of the discoveries and legends we make with every footstep in a realm unexplored.”

Sarani breathes deeply for a few moments, saying nothing.

Never before had she felt so uncertain in her own place of the world. Certainly there had been a time when she had been filled with almost definitely misplaced confidence, but it had been quickly replaced with a stronger reliance on her friends and a more reasonable amount of faith in her abilities. There had been unsteady footing along the way, but the path to her dream had always been clear.

But now, as Midgardsormr questioned her abilities independent of Hydaelyn, and the Lady Iceheart’s equivalent blessing of the mother crystal throwing the meaning of hers in doubt…

Power and ability has always been at her disposal. But what of path? Of direction? She believes in Minfilia, in the goals of the Scions. But if those blessed by Hydaelyn could find themselves on opposite sides of a battlefield, then what right, what _conviction_ did she have to declare that her side was the one worth fighting for?

“Call me Sarani.” she tells the eager looking man before her, “‘Lady Haragin’ sounds just so stuffy and pretentious.”

G’raha Tia bows extravagantly in apology.

“I…” she hesitates, unsure if she should continue, “I am not the invincible mover of history you think I am.”

The man seems slightly shocked for a moment, but says nothing.

She had never even mentioned these doubts to Ciriana. Surely her sister’s reaction would be to immediately set Eorzea ablaze and run as far as their legs could take them. 

The woman is overprotective for certain. But moreover, she is above all the sister of Sarani Haragin. What Sarani needs is not a sister, not a Scion, not an engineer, but a friend. A friend uninvolved in any of the eikon slaying, Garlean fighting, Ascian chasing shenanigans she has found herself embroiled in of late. A friend of the Warrior of Light, who looks upon the world with eyes sparkling with hope.

Maybe G’raha is the first person to be available. Or maybe there’s something else about him, but either way, Sarani feels almost compelled to open up.

She sits down, and G’raha does the same, not even once taking his eyes off of her to look at the view he had traveled so far to see.

She expresses her concerns, and talks of her latest trials in the colds of Ishgard and of her recent draconic companion. She talks of her past, of her sister, of the day she discovered her powers as the Warrior of Light.

G’raha sits patiently, offering little more than acknowledgement of her words, and simply letting her pour her heart out.

Despite the magnificent view behind him, all she can look at is the melancholy face of the boy she has just met, and he returns her gaze with equal measure. As the sky darkens, and the sparkling tower fades and is shrouded by a layer of mist.

“For those I have failed.” she says as her tale ends, with her personal oft repeated mantra, “And for those I must never fail.”

She falls silent, her feelings and predicament laid bare in a way she had never even told Minfilia. It takes some effort, but she keeps the tears of emotion locked away in her eyes.

“At some level,” he says slowly, “I know that all those spoken of in the history books are but men and women, each of them battling demons personal and voidborne.”

“Perhaps I lacked sufficient sympathy for those forced into the positions of grandeur they eventually filled...”

He looks away, as if uncertain what to say.

“There is little advice that a sheltered scholar such as myself might offer to assuage the worries of a true heroine.” he says in measured words.

“It’s fine.” Sarani replies, shaking her head and offering a forced smile, “It really helps just to have someone uninvolved to listen.”

“We’d best head back,” she says, tearing her eyes away from the red and blue eyes that looked upon her so intently, “I’m sure Rammbroes may have concerns if we are gone for so long.”

She pulls herself to her feet and dusts off her skirts.

As she turns to head back to the Sons of Saint Conalch’s camp, a hand grips her wrist and pulls her back for a moment.

“Unqualified though as my humble self may be, there is one thing I must have you know, ere we end this conversation.”

She turns, a little surprised by the sudden physical contact..

“I can’t tell you that your decisions are correct,” he says, something almost like desperation in his voice, “I can’t tell you what Hydaelyn is thinking, or what you must do but…” 

“But any choice you make, any world you fight for _must_ be one worth fighting for.” he says with words unsteadier than any before, “I have studied a hundred civilizations and a thousand historical figures across all of them, and I can say with true certainty that…” he falters.

G’raha’s face holds a desperation Sarani does not recognize. As if the words he needed to say to her in this moment were the most important words he ever had to speak, as if his life entire would hold meaning if and only if he spoke the words in his heart in this very moment. 

His warm hands engulf her own, as if he were pleading a favour from her, or possibly even praying for a miracle. Of her or for her, she could not tell.

“You are a woman with so much love to give,” he says instead, “To the world, to those around you, to people you have never even met. There may come a time when you make mistakes, maybe even a time when you should fail. But as long as you continue to fight for the sake of that love...you will never, _never_ be wrong for trying.”

The man’s anguished need to communicate this to her, more than his words themselves seem to almost pierce their way through her doubts.

She had never thought words strong enough to dispel the cloud over her heart, and yet she felt like the burden resting upon her shoulders had suddenly lightened a hundredfold.

The last dredges of sunlight vanish beneath the horizon, starlight barely illuminating them through the thick oncoming cloudcover.

“Thank you...” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, giving him a smile she wasn’t certain he could see. “But we should head back to camp, it is much too late to be out and about in a place so rife with violent fauna.”

She takes a few steps down from their perch before allowing herself to look back at him and smirk.

“Race you there.”

She takes off like the wind, grinning ear to ear as G’raha sputters in surprise before seriously taking off in her pursuit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bravest get back in time for another expedition into the Labyrinth of the Ancients at least. It's a little tiring, I imagine but they're entitled to some relaxation time afterwards, right?

**Author's Note:**

> Poor girl can't catch a break. All her coworkers are idiots and the moment she takes her eyes off her sister, she runs about flirting with the first pretty Elezen she sees.  
> Lots of new characters here. Garlean Spy, Makoto, Chuchu, Noise and the Viera ??twins??. We'll be seeing plenty more of them soon.


End file.
